


Dance on the Edge of the Abyss with Me

by HeraldicMage



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Thanatonautics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-07-10 11:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15948119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraldicMage/pseuds/HeraldicMage
Summary: A collection of short glimpses into one warlock's life as it pertains to his fireteammate and boyfriendjust a collection of writings that i cant consider long enough to be fully fledged.  ahead lies a couple of very gay guardians, character-based musing, probable lore-bending, occasional interlaced bits of art, and often experimental styles.





	1. Wraith

**Author's Note:**

> not every guardian found new uses of the Light by means of the Traveler
> 
> __  
> no additional warnings  
> 

It's been years, and yet still there were evenings where the unnatural silence tickled Avin's nerves.  He leaned back against his favored rock, setting his notes aside to stare out at the Dark Shard in the distance.  It was hard to think sometimes, due to the often times oppressive feeling covering the place. Yet another thing not dulled by time.     
  
He rubbed at his eyes, sighing in frustration as Leshya gave his own disgruntled chirp over being jostled mid-doze.  Too many variables. Too many questions. Not enough focus. A slivered claw absently taps the knife at his side. Not an option, not today.  Despite the Hunger, he knows Zak would never agree. Knows he would say that blade has been brought to bear too frequently as of late. Can almost taste the reluctance that's been there since that...mistake with the poison.   
  
_ Tap. Tap. Tap. _ __  
__  
_ ( Breathe deep.  Ignore the Hunger.  Knowledge can be patient.  You know you won't use the blade yourself, not when he sits beside you. ) _   
  
Avin looks to the Hunter beside him, the sight dampening the internal strife.  Zak-9 seemed just as lost in thought as Avin himself was. Though the Warlock couldn't feel any similar strife across their  bond. Not that he expected there to be. The Forest, and the Shard, just had that pensive way about them.    
  
Right.  The Light-bond.     
  
A peculiar structure of Light.  One that Avin was almost reluctant to study.  Not out of dislike, far from it. It was just...something he considered a gift.  A comfort. A beacon and a grounding.    
  
A soulmate, if he was feeling extra sentimental.   
  
But while he may not study its presence, its structure, he can't help but follow its function.  Light was a system. From Traveler to Ghost. From Ghost to Guardian, and back again. The Ghost acted like a valve, keeping the Guardian from being washed away, and facilitated the action of revival, be it of their own Guardian, or siphoning Light to another Ghost for theirs.  Before dangerous missions or Crucible matches, Fireteams would often spend time synchronizing their Light for the goal of reducing Light-born friendly fire.    
  
And still there were the bonds like those in question.     
  
Avin couldn't ignore the function of his Light-bond with Zak, if only because it had almost become central to any combat they found themselves in.  Keenly aware of each other's Light, knowing its feel as well as their own. There have even been times when they found themselves with the "wrong" Ghost.     
  
Avin could feel Leshya's glare at his thought of Gheist being the better study partner.   
  
Wait.   
  
Review.   
  
Perhaps that's the answer.   
  
_ ( Perhaps the answer is in the Light so similar to your own, yet still so different. ) _   
  
He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander through years of patrols and near death.  Only the focus was on his partner, rather than himself. The piercing arrow. The cold metal taste.  Sharp fangs. The prowling beast. The piercing screech of the drawn bow.   
  
He ignored the ache at his side.   
  
Review the memories.  Condense. Distill. Remember the ghost-sense.  What makes a Hunter tick? A Nightstalker?    
  
_ ( What about just a second half?  A lover? A best friend? You always get so hung up on the big picture. ) _   
  
That's it.  An idea.   
  
"Give me your knife."   
  
Avin doesn't remember turning to face Zak, but he must have, considering he could actually see the startled and confused exo in more than just the corner of his eye.  He could taste the apprehension, the reluctance to pass the blade.   
  
Ah.  An unfortunate assumption.   
  
"It's not, no.  Don't worry. I'm not asking for that.  I just...have an idea. Trust me, please."   
  
The knife is passed, if slowly.  Slivered claws eagerly tap at the new blade, as though knocking at a door and waiting for an answer.  He called forth his Light, teasing at the blade with it. An idea, nothing more. But was this the right way to test it?  Of course not.   
  
The Light may be similar, but it was still wrong.   
  
He murmured another quiet "Trust me" before he struck.  There was a near inaudible  _ pop _ as needle sharp claws just barely punctured the leather armor covering the Hunter's chest.  With more delicacy than he ever showed his prey, Avin grabbed the Light and pulled. His own Light wouldn't do for this experiment, yet there was no easy way to walk Zak through the process.   
  
Cutting out that middleman was the obvious step.   
  
Avin was careful to not take too much, that now comforting Void coiled about his arm, wanting to make the jump back to Its proper wielder.  He touched the memory of a battle's first drawn bow. He focused on that sense-memory and took no more Light than that.   
  
He took the borrowed Light in one hand and the borrowed blade in the other and gently began the delicate task of combining the two.  Once the Void began to take hold, he gave an insistent tug along the Light-bond, drawing Zak in to feel the in motion hypothesis.    
  
He passed the Void-cloaked blade back to its owner, and felt a thrill as the Void resolved itself into a blade sharper than steel with barely a blink.  He memorized the new  __ feeling , thankful Leshya taking the notes he couldn't at present.     
  
"Remember how this feels.  It's only an idea, a test, but remember.  This may be an option to you, rather than a bow.  I can't know if I'm right...I'm not you, I'm not even a Hunter.  But...you know my theories. I couldn't figure out me so..I took a chance and felt for you."     
  
Avin can feel Zak's confusion plain as day, but can't help the excited grin at the feel of trust, and the sight of that blade slowly being spun around metallic fingers.   
  
"Learn how it feels.  See how it handles. Call it an experiment."


	2. Hemlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a proper scientist only changes one variable at a time
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  **additional warnings : Suicide**  
> ( in context of Thanatonautical research )

The vial in his hand was heavier than it had any right to be.  Only about the size of his thumb, filled with a clear liquid. It would be all too easy to drop it and crush the glass beneath his boot.  His heart recognizes the irresponsibility in that, never mind the resulting mess from which he would have to clean up. However that doesn't stop his heart from wanting to hear that crunch of glass.    
  
But the heart would be stopped regardless.  That was the point of this, after all.   
  
Leshya was quiet as he sat in Avin's collar, his optic also on the offending vial.  There was no point in trying to say anything, he knew Avin would just wave him off. And Leshya knew he'd revive him anyway.  He couldn't stomach the thought of leaving His Guardian dead for even just a moment longer to prove a point.   
  
The silence was broken by the sound of Avin unscrewing the cap of the vial.  He lifts it to his lips, hesitating just before the fall.    
  
|  _ You can stop, you know. _ |   
  
"I know."   
  
And like that the hesitation is past.     
  
Neither Ghost nor Guardian said anything further.  What was there to say? Lies? Chastising? Avin's face slowly relaxed from the grimace painted by the foul tasting liquid.  Perhaps he should have tried mixing it in something. As he settles into bed, he wishes Cat was around, knowing her purring presence would help stave off the loneliness that was already creeping in.  But he had made sure to keep the cat door locked, not wanting to risk even a drop of the poison getting on her.   
  
He takes Leshya in his hands, fingers lightly tracing the angles and painted lines on his fins.  There were a few times they both seemed like they would break the silence...but the words still wouldn't flow.  The silence rattled his nerves, doing nothing to distract him from the budding headache. The last time he tried this, he hadn't even lasted this long before death claimed him.  He wanted something slower this time, hoping that wouldn't be quite so...unsettling.   
  
That hope seemed to have fallen shy of the mark.   
  
What felt like hours passed ( |  _ It's only been 15 minutes, Avi. _ | ), and he shifted farther back into the nest of pillows he'd pulled around himself, eyes shut.  Too much light, too bright. He released Leshya to wipe his mouth, trying to ignore his racing heart.  The Ghost remained floating where he was released, forced to observe out of duty.    
  
He hated the turbulent feel of Avin's Light.  His Guardian was obviously trying to keep his nerves to himself, likely not wanting to worry anyone.  As an act of kindness, he did what he could to keep that turbulence just between them, not letting that anxiety try to go for the other Light-bond in the Warlock's heart.  Avin likely had his reasons for not asking Zak-9 to be here, even if Leshya wasn't sure he agreed with that particular decision.   
  
Time ticked by slowly, too slowly for Avin's taste, and yet he endured.  Endured despite his desire for the poison to just hurry on it's way. His hands trembled, but lacked the strength to grip anything in an attempt to still them.   _ ( You did this alone, foolish boy.  You know your Ghost hates this. Know your bondmate hates this.  And yet you only spared one. Selfish creature, you are. Selfish and alone. ) _   
  
Avin whimpered, but he couldn't be sure if it was from pain or fear.   
  
Finally,  _ finally _ he tried to break the silence, anxiety spurring him on. He opened his mouth, but his tongue was like lead, throat burning.  He tried to speak but then words wouldn't come. He couldn't stand, couldn't speak. Anxiety stole his breath and still the words remained elusive.  He reached for Leshya with his Light, doing his best to ignore the vice-like feeling around his chest. He reached with his Light, a wordless plea.   
  
I'm afraid.  I'm alone. Please, I'm terrified.   
  
It took everything Leshya had to not try and burn the poison out then and there.  Avin had long since forbade him from interfering before it was time to revive. And unless he was asked to do otherwise, Leshya would remain holding to that near order.  He floated closer, gently nuzzling his pained Guardian's cheek, babbling nonsense in an attempt to comfort.    
  
It wasn't something he could do alone. Not when he was afraid, too.     
  
Leshya sensed Avin's heart slow just a few beats more, and he made a choice.  He opened a private channel, doing his best to not flinch away as Avin's hands struggled to hold him.   
  
_ « I hate to ask, I really do but...but I need your help.  Please come to the apartment. Please...please don't be angry.  Not now, anyway. Just. Just hurry, if you can. » _   
  
He hated whenever Avin asked Zak-9 to assist with his thanatonautcal pursuits, after the amount of pain the topic had caused them both.  But now here he was, begging the same. He couldn't linger on that new worry just yet, not with Avin’s hands fumbling against his shell. Leshya came to rest on Avin’s chest, trying to make it easier on his weakening Guardian.  Trying to ignore the faint heartbeat under ribs and too cold skin. Trying to keep his digital voice steady as he kept the stream of quiet lies.

He hated asking for help, but there was only so long he could lie and soothe alone.

\- - -

Getting a comm ping from Leshya, and actually hearing the Ghost’s voice on the other end was something Zak-9 never particularly expected to hear when not in the field.  But here they were. And it had been a long time since Leshya had come to him for  _ anything _ .  That alone was enough to catch the metaphorical breath in his throat.

He was already on his feet and on the move as he tried to ask Leshya what was wrong.

Leshya wouldn’t respond.

Zak-9 moved faster.

\- - -

Leshya was still anxiously hovering above Avin’s chest when Zak arrived.  He hated that he couldn’t get a proper read on how the exo was feeling. He hated that Avin was still near dead beneath him.  Hated the loyalty that kept him from just ending this ridiculous experiment. Hated the knowledge that he wouldn’t for the simple fact he didn’t want Avin’s suffering to be useless.

He drifted out of the way as Zak busied himself with checking Avin’s vitals.  Gathering his own data.   
  
|  _ Please...don’t be mad… | _

The exo’s continued silence was almost as frightening as the situation itself.

It wasn’t long before they felt that shared spark of Light fade.

It was shorter still until Leshya fanned it back to full.

\- - -

Avin remembered nothing as he returned to the world of the living.

He remembered the poison, of course.  It was the anticipated visions he could not remember.  It made for a wasted experiment, but he expected nothing less.  He knew there would be no use to be gotten from this the moment he slipped into panic.  He could sense Leshya hovering beside him, and felt a familiar hand on his chest.

Ah.

So Leshya had called for Zak in the end.  

He opened his mouth to offer his paltry apologies and greetings...only to find his words still gone.

Only to find his  _ breath _ still gone. 

His brain called to inhale, but the command was lost somewhere in transit and panic was all that was returned.  This wasn’t supposed to  _ happen. _  He didn’t think this even  _ could _ happen.  

He reached with his Light, sluggish but untamed, for the two Bonds nearest.  He reached for comfort, reached with desperation. The edges of his vision started to turn back to the dark, and he took what comfort he could from the physical contact of his companions...even if their garbled panic rang harsh on his ears.

Death claimed him once more as breath refused to do so.

And it claimed him again.

And again.

\- - -

As Zak set about removing his cloak and pulling it around the warlock, Leshya just barely managed to hold back a frustrated scream.  Why couldn’t he just  _ fix _ this?  What was he  _ missing _ ?  He had one  _ purpose _ and he couldn’t even manage  _ that _ .  

He tucked himself under Avin’s chin, mentally providing whatever scrap of comfort he could manage.

He barely even remembered giving Zak what information he knew.  Remembered even less as the Hunter left with a Purpose. 

All he could do was draw from the Light.

All he could do was delay the suffering.

\- - - 

  
He wakes up once more.     
  
The whimper is quiet in his throat, eyes still squeezed shut out of fear of what could be waiting.  Or what wouldn't be. He just barely registers the familiar texture of the fabric against his skin, the soft brush of fur against his face.  The panic starts to rise again, a quietly murmured "Easy..." falling on deaf ears. It takes too long for him to realize that the panic wasn't falling off.  Wasn't giving way to the absence of oxygen, of breath. Of life.    
  
He finally opens his eyes.   
  
A glimpse of purple confirms the cloak wrapped around him, its owner keeping him pressed against his warm, metallic side.  Once again he registers the quiet, soothing mantra. "It's okay. You're fine. I'm here. You're okay. It's over. You're here."  He latched onto those words like a lifeline, waiting for the darkness to claim him again.   
  
The darkness never came.   
  
It was then, finally then, that he recognized a feeling almost forgotten.  The feeling of his chest rising and falling. Of lungs expanding. Of the absence of pain.  Of life, persistent.   
  
He still felt weak, so weak, but he managed the monumental effort of moving his arm, of getting it bonelessly draped across his companion's waist.  That touch, that contact would have to do. He breathed deep, tears pricking his eyes at the feeling, at the ability. He tried to speak, and almost failed.  All that would come was a whine, a tired rasp. But words finally came, and tongue remembered how they tasted, as dry and rough as they were.   
  
"I made a mistake."


	3. Adfinitas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the Light reawakens and reclaims
> 
> no additional warnings   
> 

And down among the rubble, Avin was thankful that he was already down.  Otherwise, that wave of Light would have driven him to his knees.

He could almost feel his wounds closing, could feel the exhaustion being washed away.  He felt tongues of Void lick at his arms, and was all but deafened at the joyous roar inside.  His Light came unasked, unbidden, his concentration lost to the newly raging sea. The roar was near painful, so much Light, so much power.  He was only just able to stay afloat, only just able to stay above the roiling burn.

He was faintly aware of a slight tug at his belt.  A faint presence, so familiar. It only added to the rush.

The growl didn't so much cut through the Lighted roar as the Light deigned it necessary to its vessel’s attention.  Avin turned to see the hulking centurion, the muzzle of its gun mere inches from his chest. 

Hardly a worry, he couldn't help but feel alight with frantic glee.

The Void filled his hands and he made a leap.  A leap of faith, perhaps, worth it for the amusement on the cabal brute’s face.  He clawed through its shielding with all the power of the Void, uncaring  _ (unnoticing?)  _ of the sparks and blasts of heat from damaged armor, damaged systems.  Claws of Void found the centurion’s neck, and Avin could feel the tough flesh as though it were under his own hands.  He pressed deeper, uncaring, and found the hot slick of blood and oil felt just as real. 

The giant fell, torn asunder by Void, and Avin found himself still lost in the roar.  Fed by blood, fed by vengeance, fed by loss and survival. The roaring sea of Light threatened once more to sweep the warlock away, washing out the desperate voice coming from the belt pouch at his side.

Avin heard a laugh, so harsh, so joyed.  He didn't realize it had sprung from his own mouth, unbidden.


	4. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's comfort and madness to be found in the space between the stars
> 
> no additional warnings

The cold expanse of space stretched endlessly.  Unknown mysteries in the gaps between stars. Untold powers.  Relics yet to be forgotten. Maybe even stories so similar to those already lived light-years away.

Even now it was enough to make one feel small.

Avin delicately put his feet up on an empty bit of his jumpship’s console, his eyes and the indicators on the boards before him the only light in the cockpit.  Every warlock had their methods of meditation, and Avin found his in the void between planets. It was something he hadn't had much time to do as of late. Between the Red War, the Oldtown Incident, the Arcology, Mars…he all too often forgot that sometimes he needed a chance to just  _ breathe _ .  

Breath that was always found in the vacuum.

He took a deep breath, loosely crossing his arms across his chest.  Perhaps it wasn't the safest thing to do, floating dark between destinations, but there was no one out here to stop him.  

For all his boisterous attitude, Leshya loved the void-quiet, too.

Distant starlight played a purring melody through his bones, the void between keeping time.  The cold-fire constant of the Void led it all, as it always has. As it always will. Avin has never been afraid that there would come a time where he found himself unwilling to leave the depths of the Void.  There was too much to do in the flesh. Too many memories yet to be had. People whose absence would split his soul. The Void was cold-fire comfort, drown-deep endless, but it didn't have the final hold. Important, a foundation, a constant companion, but not warm-comfort.  Power, defense, a tool of purpose, but not a place of safe harbor.

Blue eyes crack open once more, arms unfolding so slivered claws can pick at reality, Void-fire motes leaving patches of dead-sense along his arms.

He always found it odd that the deadened sensations only ever came with partial exposure.  The sparks pulled from the essence of others turning his hands touch-blind. The scar covering his side a sensationless expanse at best, a breath stealing, buckling pain at worst.  The silence of space. The blind-sight of the pitch dark. So many manifestations of sensory deprivation only ever found in passing contact.

It made him certain the Warp would drive him mad one day.

Before the Golden Age, humanity had determined the average color of the universe, the sounds of the various celestial bodies found in Sol.  As his jumpship sat in that cold void-not-Void, Avin settled that the sounds at least were guide-sense enough to keep his Self every time he Blinked between.  Every pass through the Void was a cacophony of sounds and sensations, something so easily lost in. The roar was so much it came to feel as nothing at all. And Avin found himself cloaked in that clamor every time his Light ran full and he embraced this newfound Warp.  

So odd to consider that perhaps the Nova was safer.

But he couldn't deny its comfort, its ease, that bit of fractured reality.  Make the Jump, steal the Life, Fragment. 

_ ( You always find yourself again, don't you? ) _

A small metallic jab draws him back, Leshya having flickered back into existence against Avin’s neck.  Some indicator on the dashboard makes itself known, demanding attention with insistent beeps. Small reminders of the mortal world.  Little things to draw back the wanderers when words alone cannot. He swings his feet back down to the floor, hands coming back to the controls as Ghost and Guardian set the jumpship back onto its plotted course.

The Void will wait forever, even if mortality does not.


	5. Aberation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Voidwalker should walk between realities, but now Void has the reins and Reality tries to come apart at the seams
> 
> __  
> no additional warnings  
> 

A comm was coming in from one of the Corsairs, a warning, but it was far too little too late.

The Sense was negligible at first, something like the feeling of stepping into the mists around the Dreaming City.  A smooth ripple, a faint tingle, much like that of the Void at hand. But tingle turned to buzz, and buzz turned to roar.  Avin was proud of himself for saying upright for as long as he did.

 

As the buzz and ache settled into his teeth, he stopped to slump against the crystalline wall beside him.  He couldn’t stay upright on his own. The roar turned his mind to static, and he felt a hand around his throat.  He wasn’t sure if it was his, or if it was merely manifestation of the Shift. All he knew was that he couldn’t breathe and couldn’t find it in himself to fight that sensation.

Not when there were so many sensations demanding his attention.

A ragged whimper is pulled from his breathless throat, unbidden as the static turns tangible.  His eyes are barely able to focus on his hands as they desperately grab for something,  _ anything _ , to help him stay as barely upright as he already was.  The Void lashed in response to the Dark, tearing itself from Avin’s body in defiance of its opposite.  

 

He hated how it felt like when the Last City fell.

 

Leshya kept a mental hold on him, but the Ghost against the onslaught of reality was all too much like the struggle of someone trying to hold back the tide.  He felt his Guardian  _ flicker _ , as though trying to walk Between.  

 

Just one more action unbidden.

 

The buzz had settled into his bones, and the black at the edge of his vision had nothing to do with the Dark, and all to do with that vice still around his throat.  Trembling legs sent him finally,  _ finally _ , collapsing to the ground, eyes unfocused as he still tried, fruitlessly, to gasp for breath.  Tried to find something,  _ anything _ , to latch onto.  To anchor himself to. 

The Void lashed once more against the encroaching Dark.

A breathless moan was all he could offer to fight.


	6. Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a Ghost will always be afraid for their Guardian
> 
> __  
> no additional warnings  
> 

_| Wait.  Please. |_

  
  
Even without the desperation in that mental voice, Avin would have stopped, anyway.  The near-tangible concern from Leshya just removed any hesitation from the equation.  
The Ghost drifted into sight, fins shifting in discomfort at the touch of the Dark air around them, floating down to Avin's outstretched hand for what little comfort it could provide.

  
  
_| Are...are you sure you want to do this? |_

  
Avin at least had the decency to look uncertain.  "There's not many other options, Leshya. I just...I don't want to hurt anyone.  I have to take whatever routes I can to prevent that. I owe it to Zak. I owe it to _you_ ."

  
  
Leshya's optic narrowed, just barely managing to keep his voice mental, keep it private.  _| Neither of you know what you're doing!  If you did, you wouldn't have lost control like you did in the Well...you wouldn't even be Taken! |_  
There have been too many times he's thought Avin a fool.  Too may times he disliked the decisions made. What was one more distaste to the pile.

  
  
"Maybe that's true...but it doesn't matter.  Because it _did_ happen.  And we have to cope with that."  

  
  
_| But this is just...ridiculous.  Some kind of code to lock away some bizarre and ravenous piece of yourself?  That's nothing but hypnosis. Nothing but control. |_

  
  
"That's what's bothering you, isn't it?" A claw gently traces the edge of a black and blue fin, "You don't like the amount of agency I could lose."

  
  
He shook off that hand, unable to stop his vocal outburst. _《 Of course I don't!! 》_  

His shell was trembling, presence dripping fear and worry as words returned to the mind.   _| He can ruin you.  And I don't think you realize that. |_

  
  
The silence was near painful as Avin slowly sank down to sit on a bit of rubble.  "I do understand, Leshya. It's just...it's just the alternative is worse, to me. I almost lost myself completely the other day, and it's only dumb luck that I was stopped before I could hurt him.  Hurt Gheist. Hurt _you_ ."  His voice was quiet, almost more felt by emotion than heard by ear.  "If I had snuffed you out, I could never forgive myself. If I even just barely _scratched_ you, I'd be beside myself.  I know I haven't been the best Guardian.  You deserve someone so much better than what I have been.  Someone who doesn't drive you mad with worry and frustration and fear.  But, and maybe it's selfish of me, but I'm glad you chose me. I do a poor job of showing it sometimes...but you're perhaps the most important thing to me.    
  
"I'm not taking this risk, foregoing this autonomy, because I think it'll be fun.  I'm doing it so I don't risk hurting you, killing you," his grip tightened on Leshya, the Ghost's optic softening.  "I'm terrified, I've _been_ terrified.  But you're worth it.  No matter what happens, you'll always be worth whatever risk I may have to take to keep you safe.  You're my best friend, Leshya. And...I'm sorry.”

  
  
Leshya remained in Avin's hands for a moment longer, before floating up to press his shell against Avin's cheek.  It was the best he could do. _| You do drive me crazy sometimes.  But I chose you for a reason, and I have never once regretted that choice.  I'm still scared too, and I still don't like this, but...you're right. I hate to admit it, but you're right.  Come on, Zak is waiting for you... |_


	7. Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunger twists, Light maintains - answers remain elusive
> 
> __  
> no additional warnings  
> 

Lips curled beneath his helm, fangs bared against sharp, cold-star-fire scent.  It was never something he was going to get used to. Not even when he swore the hollow scent clung to his own skin, even hours after these...excursions.

It didn't take a Hunt to find these creatures. Didn't take a Hunt to tear them asunder. Though perhaps it was foolish to go after prey so large. But it's what the Warlock needed to feel...something. He wasn't sure what exactly these hunts-not-Hunts were supposed to do. Only that they brought exhaustion with them. Brought pain.

 

It had been a week since he last slept.

 

Minotaurs made blood-chilling sounds even without being Taken. The otherworldly cries only made it worse. But those steely cadences wouldn't continue for much longer.

 

He has always appreciated the Bond-gift of stealth. 

 An unseen weight dropped onto the Minotaur's shoulders, Light-cloaked metal screaming defiant against its Dark-clad counterpart. He flickered back into view, the blue eyes of his capreolinae visage blazing. Void was brought to bear, burning matter-weave and metal plating alike. With an unearthly screech, a large metal hand found dangling cloak, swinging the Warlock into the ground.

 

He grinned despite the pain, eyes fixed on the sparking gouges his own claws left behind.

 

What radiolaria was left in the beast mattered little, its ever dulling acidic burn nothing compared to the Dark's mind-numbing chill. A state of numbness that would be all too easily to give in to. He would know. He's done it before. Ecstasy of deference.

He surged to his feet, Void-clad claws tearing into Darkened metal once more.

The Minotaur had lost this fight the moment the Warlock had set his gaze on it.  Bloodshed was the only cure for these moods, if you could consider the star-strewn Darkness "blood".  The Warlock never fired a single weapon, only Light and the echos of Hunger.

 

His claws sank into the beast's chest, wishing instead it was another heart entirely.

 

It would take a trained eye to determine what the scattered pieces were.  Torn apart so brutally that they couldn't whisk back to whatever Plane they'd come from.  He kicked a piece of plating with silver-taloned boots.

 

When will he be torn asunder like so.

Who will tear him apart and feast on the remains.

Ecstasy of deference.

He whined once more, whisking out of view in a wisp of Dark-strewn Void.

So continued the hunt-not-Hunt.

 

He still wasn't sure what he was looking for.


	8. More Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time doesn't always soothe loss, but sometimes it doesn't have to
> 
>  
> 
> no additional warnings  
> 

The Red War was over.

 

There was still cleanup to be done.  Remnants of the Red Legion to oust. But the Light was back.  Those remnants might as well be inconsequential. The City still stood, and it was back in the hands of the Light.

 

He didn't expect to survive.

 

It was hard to focus, really.  The thoughts and emotions of everyone were pressing down on him.  The Light roared in his ears with wild abandon, threatening to take him ( and his mind ) with it.  It was all so bright, so loud, so full of life and warmth and celebration. 

 

It felt like ice in his chest.

 

Leshya bumped against his jaw, silently trying to draw him back to the present.  The Ghost desperately wanted to talk, wanted to reassure, wanted to comfort. But Avin's mental channels were already burning, and Leshya knew that anything more than gentle emotion and what shielding he could manage would only add to the pain.  As for speaking aloud? He'd already tried. Several times. It was nigh impossible to pull Avin from the maelstrom that was the City's aura of victory. 

 

He pressed his shell into Avin's skin, just a little more.

 

The brief pain of Leshya's prodding brought him back, a mumbled apology barely understandable.  One foot in front of the other, remember the Ghost in your collar. The flutter of his cloak (  _ his  _ cloak ) against his arm brought the ice back, made his stomach turn.  Two years did nothing to dull  _ that _ pain.  He wished he had the energy for tears; maybe that would soothe the hurt a bit. It was hard to not feel bitter when there were reunions around every bend.

 

A familiar thread of Light brushed against his mind, only picked from the maelstrom by the same-familiar-bonded. It burned with an agony born from more than just overstimulation.  There was no humor in his brittle laugh, or in his desperate, searching eyes. “You feel that, Leshya? Of course not. The Light is back and all It can do is torment. My memories weren't enough.  Hearing his voice every damn night wasn't enough.” 

 

Leshya didn't say anything.  He knew he wouldn't be heard.

 

By all rights, he shouldn't have been able to pick the figure out of the crowd.  He could barely focus on his  _ self _ , nevermind the faces and figures he passed.  But still he saw, and still he was almost driven to his knees.  He looked battered, as everyone did. A dented sniper rifle was slung across his back.   _ ( The same one from the first attack.  His mind so easily provided that Final appearance. ) _

The cloak was wrong, but it hadn't been right in months.  How could it be when Avin now wore the correct one, himself?  There were some new dents, new scrapes, and the armor was new, but Avin would recognize Zak, no matter what.

 

_ ( A trick of the Light.  It's just razing your memories and using Its power to make the changes that would be were he here.  You can even recall the  _ **_feel_ ** _ of him, of his Light with stunning clarity now.  You never thought the Light this cruel. ) _

 

On the heels of that thought, he had the wind knocked from his lungs, wishing once more he had the strength to cry.  The curiosity in those luminescent green eyes, the  _ hope _ , was too much to bear.  Perhaps he's already been irrevocably swept away by the Lighted maelstrom.  Such a loss of self would hurt less than this. The vision-that-was-Love broke into a run the moment curiosity turned to recognition.  Avin couldn't move, paralyzed by sorrow, by desperate and fruitless hope.

 

He didn't expect to be lifted from the ground.  Lifted by arms he's missed so much.

 

“Does this feel like a hallucination to you?”

 

Avin still couldn't move, crushed against a synthetic body, now paralyzed by disbelief.  But by some miracle, or perhaps some final strength of will, he managed to get his arms around Zak's neck, hugging with all the desperation of years denied.  He hid his face in his neck, so afraid that if he were to look again he'd be forced to confront just another lie, just another trick of the Light. “You were dead... _ I couldn't find you, you were  _ **_dead_ ** _!” _

 

A simulated breath of laughter, but with no humor in it's quiet note.  “It certainly felt like it at times. But now I'm not. I've never felt more alive, my favorite, ridiculous Light.”

 

Finally, the tears were able to fall once more.

 

And they didn't hurt quite so much.


	9. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> normalcy never returns overnight
> 
>  
> 
> no additional warnings  
> 

**«** _He's...I think he needs a little more assurance. There's something off, but I just can't quite tell._ ** _Damn_** _this weakened link...I_ ** _hate_** _not being able to feel him quite as clear…_ **»**

 

Zak held out a hand for Leshya, the frustrated Ghost settling in it with a wordless sense of thanks.  Avin was asleep, sat on the floor and leaning against Zak's leg. It didn't take a bond to know he was sleeping poorly, judging by the still tense face and occasional whimper.   _ 'If only it were because a metal leg can't be the most comfortable of pillows,' _ Zak thought, his other hand returning to its job of gently carding through Avin's hair.  Once more, he was struck with the uncertainty on whether or not he should wake him. On one hand, this was the first time he had seen the Warlock sleep in days.  On the other...was it right to leave him to whatever nightmares were causing this fitful sleep? It was also the only reason he hadn't at least moved Avin to a more comfortable spot; Avin had always been a light sleeper, and that seems to have only gotten worse.  Neither Ghosts nor Guardians were eager for the damage that could be caused by a couple of tired, combat fatigued people.

 

Leshya's optic remained fixed on his Guardian.  He's always hated that there were things about Avin that he couldn't fix.  Not that he'd fix them without permission, of course, but that was a moot point.  There was never a cure for the sleepless nights. Nor a cure for the anxiety, which he worried would have long term effects, even if not completely evident in the present.  He wishes he could fix Avin's reluctance to talk about  _ anything _ that causes him distress; Avin's still never talked to anyone about what happened in the Vault of Glass.  Right now, he wishes he could cure the hyper-vigilance, and make it so he didn't have to always guess what was here and real.  Leshya came to rest more solidly in Zak's hand, metallic fingers curving slightly around his shell for support.  _ 'It's unfair that we can't do anything to heal the mind...I wish I knew what to do about things I can't fix.' _

 

**"** There's something bothering  _ you _ too, isn't there?  **"**

 

Leshya was touched by the concern in Zak's voice, but only shifted his shell in a shrug.   **«** _It's not a new concern, but there's nothing to be done about it.  I promise. I won't go hiding important problems from you...Avi already does a good job cornering that market._ **_»_**

 

There's no humor in either of their quiet, forced laughs.  But neither of them expected there to be.

 

**"** Then tell me what I can do for him.  **"**

 

Leshya looked away, uncertain.   **«** _I...I don't really know, to be honest.  You know about as much as I do about what happened to him the past couple of years.  I should have been there for him!_ **_»_** There was the impression of a breath, as Leshya reined in his frustration, keeping his voice low.   **«** _I can only make guesses, and I don't know if it's because he can't or won't tell me.  For all his sensitivity, I think he keeps forgetting about the Light. That he can use it, at least.  He used to always have his mental fingers on his bonds with us but now…_ **_»_**

 

**"** But now they're barely there.  **"**

 

 **«** _Right…  I make my own contact as frequently as I'm able, just to remind him that it's -- Wait. Maybe that's it.  It would certainly lend some sense to some of those fears I keep picking up. And to why he reacted like he did when you found each other again._ **_»_** Leshya left his perch in Zak's hand, floating down to check on Avin before moving to hover at Zak's shoulder.   **«** _I think he sometimes forgets you're here._ **_»_**

 

Zak's confusion lasted for only a moment, mechanical hand stilled in it's motions.  Forget? How could he forget? He's barely been more than a room away since they found each other again. If he were any closer, they'd have to be glued together.  Which is when it hit him. 

 

_ 'All the Light can do is torment.  As if my memories weren't enough. As if hearing his  _ **_voice_ ** _ every damn night wasn't enough.' _

 

A single, darker snippet of thought Zak had managed to glean through the wonder of seeing Avin in a new Light.  It was easy to forget that Avin sometimes saw and heard things that weren't there.

 

**"** He spent two years thinking we were dead...of  _ course _ he was tormented like that.  I should have thought of that sooner.  **"** His hand finally resumed it's gentle attentions, Zak now reluctant to break contact for even the slightest of moments.  _ 'I left him behind...I should have never done that.  I  _ **_abandoned_ ** _ him…' _

 

It was Leshya's voice that interrupted Zak's downward spiral of thought.   **«** _So what are we going to?_ **_»_**

 

**"** The same as you've been doing.  Being there for him, and reminding him that he's real, that  _ I'm _ real, whenever he needs it.  We have to make sure he knows he's not alone anymore.  **"**

 

Not alone.  

 

It's a start.

**Author's Note:**

> This whole shindig is just a place for me to collect writings centered around both my warlock, Avin, and [ZeraCyfr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeraCyfr/pseuds/ZeraCyfr)'s hunter, Zak-9. The writing styles found ahead may vary over time, as a lot of these will likely be borne from me trying to get certain character-based emotions down on paper. I'll keep a summary of the chapter at the top of each, and update tags accordingly as needed.
> 
> If for some reason you find yourself with some sort of character-centric question, feel free to hit me up over on [tumblr](http://multi-attack.tumblr.com) and I'll see about adding to the scribbles.


End file.
